One month to go

So many practical small things are involved with having a baby - figuring out space and stuff is more stressful than the birth itself sometimes. I suppose my wife might not agree - especially since she's starting to get really fatigued and losing sleep because there's a small giraffe in her abdomen. He's kicking up a storm, and it's possible he may come out running or wrestling or both.
When you think about having kids, there's always a nursery and a basement or attic for storage. Living in this city, most people have maybe a second bedroom. Considering how lucky we are to have a nice-sized one bedroom apartment in a a good neighborhood with reasonable rent, I feel ridiculous for complaining. But in regards to home and all of the deep psychological attachments to that concept there are several complications which make it difficult to be at ease.
First, the metaphorical 'home in body' situation. Pretty basic, constantly digging out how the closing chasm between my real and ideal form impacts my sense of self and stability.
Second, my brother finally sold the house we grew up in - which is good for him because he could not afford to keep it and he was able to avoid foreclosure. However, since my mom died that house has been one of the few places I can go and feel her presence. Not always a good thing and often a complicator in my relationship to my brother, letting the house go will be a healing experience in the long run. Mom held on to the house longer than she wanted to because, she asserted, she wanted my brother and me to always have a home that we could call our own. It was her grand effort at providing stability in a world where she found none for herself.
Third. The apartment we live in was my wife's before she knew me, and all of the furniture is hers, the decor, and all of my belongings that would not fit in an SUV are in storage, at my brother's house, or at my father's house (a two-day drive away). She has been generous and accommodating, but now that the baby is coming, my space and stuff needs are being seriously threatened. It's not just about having a dresser to call my own, or the type of bedside table that suits my needs, but reaches into issues of autonomy and safety and security. I think over the past couple of years I have gotten more relaxed and safe and secure here, but I had been living alone for most of my adult life. That's a lot of time. My wife bought me a turntable for Christmas, so I can feel safe that she will accept a portion of my record collection in the apartment. It's not about anything that she is doing or not doing - I think it is something that might take time to figure out.
There's more, but for now that's all I have. I wish I could wave some magic wand and stop thinking about and stressing about these things - it's not helping when we need to communicate about baby preparations - but that's not an available option. I think it's reasonable as a 39 year-old who got married late to have all sorts of adult needs for space and stuff that are particular to creating safe and secure home environments. Not inflexible, but not as flexible as a 25 year-old. I really pride myself on being able to unpack these things when times are tough, but I 'm having a hard time with this particular issue. I need to take a step back and define what I need to feel safe/secure and why, and how all of it ties into the loss of my childhood home, lack of safety/security growing up, and what I can intentionally create as home in all dimensions going forward.
I get so sad when I think about it all, chest-heavy and tired. As with most all things, I know it will work out, and that I have the love and support I need to make it all happen. Might not make it easy, but certainly makes it possible.